A House is Not a Home
by Kristen Elizabeth
Summary: House/CSI crossover. You don't have to tell us that people lie, Dr. House. We hear more lies in one day than you will in a month.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Characters contained within do not belong to me.

**Author's Notes:** Yes, this is a House and CSI crossover. I hope that hasn't driven you away for any reason;) If you're still here, let me assure you that this story is already completed thanks to the amazing encouragement, support and beta skills of my incredible friend Lisa a.k.a. Mingsmommy. No WIP, I promise!

This was probably the hardest story I've written in a long time, maybe ever. If you're at all familiar with the House timeline (which I hope you are), I had to take a smidge of liberty with it considering what was going on in that universe at the time of CSI's season seven finale. But I do bring it back to canon, so hang with me;)

I'm more nervous posting this than anything I've done in awhile, so I hope you enjoy it. More will be coming very soon. Thank you for stopping by!

* * *

A House is Not a Home

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_May 18th, 2007_

"What the hell is this?"

With a piece of popcorn halfway to his mouth, Chase winced at the sound of his boss's voice. "This would be the one day he comes in early," he muttered.

"What the hell does it look like?" Foreman grabbed a handful of popcorn, his eyes never leaving the TV screen.

"In five seconds, it better look like _Passions_." With angry, jerky steps, House limped into the room, heading for the television.

"Don't. Please." The tone of Cameron's voice had him stopping in his tracks. "We're watching the news."

House shot her his best withering look as he readjusted the patient chart that was tucked under his arm. "Let me guess. Kitten caught in a storm drain? Puppy pulls family from burning building?" When she didn't wither, he glanced at the TV for a moment. "Are there any patients dying while you three are in here? I can't wait to tell their families that you figured something happening in Nevada was more important than keeping their loved ones alive."

"Maybe it's not soap opera-level drama," Foreman shot back. "But I would think even you'd stop to listen to a story about a cop getting kidnapped by a crazy serial killer and dumped in the desert to die."

"Did he die?" House asked, feigning interest.

"She," Cameron replied. "And no. They found her about an hour ago."

"So they all lived happily ever after, end of story." With the tip of his cane, House hit the channel button several times. Each new screen displayed different footage of the same breaking news story. His forehead wrinkled in mounting frustration.

Chase tried to bite back his smirk, but he didn't quite manage it. "Preempted. That has to suck."

"Oh, I can think of something worse." House threw the patient chart at the younger doctor. "Explosive diarrhea in the clinic. Make sure you take plenty of samples straight from the source. Foreman likes it fresh when he runs his tests."

Foreman sighed. "You'd be giving this to one of us even if we'd had _Passions_ on, wouldn't you?"

House shrugged as innocently as possible. "Well, I guess you'll never know now."

"What punishment have you designed for me?" Cameron wondered after the men very reluctantly dragged themselves out of the office. "Do I get to diaper the patient when they're done?"

After popping a Vicodin, House dropped into Chase's empty seat. "You get to tell me what's so gosh-darn fascinating about a kidnapped cop from Vegas that we don't get to watch our soaps here in Jersey." He reached for the popcorn. "She better have a really great rack."

Cameron rolled her eyes to keep from smiling.

* * *

_One month later_

Pain had become part of Sara's life. How to hide her pain from Grissom was now a battle she waged every minute of every day.

It wasn't easy. Her boyfriend had become her protector. Her boss had become her jailer. No more solitary mornings with a book and a glass of wine, waiting for him to come home from the lab; he now clocked out as soon as she did. No more solo crime scenes; she was constantly assigned a partner now, Nick or Warrick usually. He didn't even trust her safety to Greg.

But Sara was clever and determined. Grissom would never know that she lived with a constant cramp in her lower belly. He would never find out that she was frequently tired, often ran a low-grade fever, and woke up sweating in the middle of the night. Let him think that her reluctance to make love was psychological rather than physical. Grissom wasn't calling the shots anymore.

And if he didn't like it, he was free to spend the night at Lady Heather's house.

"Sara?"

She snapped to attention at the sound of Nick's voice. "I'm here. Sorry." She hid a quick cough behind her hand. "You were saying?"

He eyed her warily as he repeated his last observation. "These two shoe prints are obviously not a match. But from the overall pattern of tracks they made in the dirt…it doesn't seem like they came from two different people either."

She dropped her good hand to her aching belly. "What if the killer…" Sara coughed again, louder this time. "Tickle in my throat," she explained. "Let's say the killer wore two different…" Again she was cut off by the pressing need to cough.

"Sara, are you okay?" Nick frowned, concerned. "Do you need some water?"

"I'm…fine," she choked out. "It's just…." A coughing fit seized her. "Yeah, okay. Water's…good."

Nick nodded, but before he could start out of the room, Sara began coughing again. Each spasm of her torso made her belly burn. She grabbed the edge of the lighted table, bracing herself against the pain. She couldn't stop coughing.

"All right, this isn't sounding like a tickle," Nick said, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, mindful of her sling. "Can you breathe, Sara?"

At the touch of his hand, Sara's jerked violently away from him. "Don't touch me!" Nick took a step back, his eyes wide. "Who are you?" She looked around wildly. "Where am I? Where the hell am I?!" Just as suddenly as everything had become confusing, her head cleared. "Nick? Nick…something's wrong with…" The coughing overtook her again.

Through the sound of her own coughs, she heard Nick yell down the hall, "Grissom! Get in here!!"

"Sara?!" The next thing she heard was her lover's voice. When she glanced up, she saw him standing in the layout room door, a horrified look on his face.

It was only when she wiped her mouth a second later that she noticed the blood on her chin.

Their eyes met again, briefly, before the whole world spun into darkness.

* * *

Grissom had a favorite spot at Desert Palm. It was little more than a shaded corner of the open-air courtyard at the heart of the building, but it was far away from the sights, sounds and smells of the hospital. He'd discovered it while Sara was in surgery to reset her fractured arm after her ordeal in the desert, and he'd spent many hours there as she recovered, sitting on a cold, stone bench watching the various species of insect that called the garden home. Although he'd hated to be away from Sara, his overworked mind had needed the solitude to rejuvenate.

Only Brass knew about the spot, so when Grissom glanced up from the grass at his feet and saw Doc Robbins heading straight for him, he frowned slightly. Once he saw Sara's chart in the older man's free hand, his annoyance at the disclosure of his sanctuary melted. He shot to his feet.

"You've found something?" he asked without greeting. "What's wrong with her?"

"Gil, first of all, like I told you earlier, my medical opinion is no better than the team of doctors she's got in there." Leaning on his walking cane, Doc Robbins flipped her chart open. "That being said, I did look over their notes, just in case they missed something."

"And did they?" Grissom demanded.

The older man sighed. "Not that I can see."

Looking away, Grissom forced himself to ask, "What about the…you know?"

Doc Robbins shook his head. "No. Any complications from that would present a different set of symptoms."

"So, you're basically telling me what all those other doctors are…that she's coughing up blood for absolutely no reason."

"I don't know what to tell you, Gil. They've run all the standard tests. Her chest films are clear. Her blood cultures are normal. Upper and lower GI revealed no gastronomical bleeding." He shook his head. "It's possible that a particularly violent cough could burst some capillaries in her throat, causing her to bleed."

"Would that explain her confusion? Nick said she didn't know where she was for a minute."

A second passed. "No, it wouldn't. But Gil, I looked at the slides. There's no sign of any infection that could be causing any of that. And her brain scans are normal, too."

"She is sick. Don't tell me that you're agreeing with them." Grissom pointed up in the general direction of the hospital room where Sara had been living for three days. "They want to send her home with some cough medicine and a referral for a shrink who specializes in post traumatic stress disorder."

"She did just go through hell," Doc Robbins reminded him. "It's not unheard of for psychological problems to manifest physiological symptoms."

Grissom stared at him. "I know her, Al. Sara is sick, not crazy." He ran his hand down the length of his beard in a futile attempt to calm himself. "What can I do? How I am supposed to take care of her if I can't get someone to acknowledge that she needs help?"

"You could try another hospital," the ME suggested. "Take her to L.A. Cedars-Sinai has…"

"Hand Sara over to the same incompetent doctors who misdiagnosed my mother and let her drown in her own phlegm? Not a chance," Grissom swore.

The chirp of cicadas filled the silence between them. Usually it was a sound in which Grissom took comfort, but right then, it was only helping bring on a migraine faster.

"I read an article awhile back about the diagnostic department at a hospital in New Jersey," Doc Robbins eventually said. "The head of the department has a…reputation, but his team's mortality rate is one of the lowest in the entire country."

Grissom rubbed his aching temple. "What kind of reputation?"

The older man side-stepped the question. "By all accounts, he's brilliant. Just unorthodox." He paused. "Of course, some people say the same of you." A few seconds passed. "I have a friend whose son is on the hospital's board. It wouldn't take a lot of string-pulling to get Sara an appointment."

It was going to be one hell of a migraine; already, every word that came out of the doctor's mouth sounded like it was being shouted directly into his ear. Grissom winced, but managed to nod. "Okay. I'll…talk to her about it."

"I'll call my friend." Doc Robbins turned to go, but glanced back a second later. "Take something now, Gil, before you can't function. Don't suffer if you don't have to."

Alone again, Grissom sank back down onto the stone bench. If there was such a thing as karma, the torture of a migraine couldn't even begin to balance out his sins.

* * *

To Be Continued


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

* * *

A House is Not a Home

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

Greg came to Sara's hospital room with flowers and a not-as-hidden-as-he-wanted-to-believe agenda.

"So…" he hedged as Sara admired the calla lilies he'd handed to her. "How's the food in this place?"

She shot him a look. "Greg, don't think I'm not grateful for the flowers and the company. But if you want to say something, just say it."

"You say that now, but I'm anticipating seeing a very betrayed look on your face soon."

"Out with it."

Greg dragged a chair over to Sara's bed. "Did I ever tell you that Papa Olaf used to live in New Jersey?"

"Oh, Greg," she said, disappointed. "Not you, too."

He pointed at her expression. "That's the look I was talking about!"

Sara thrust the flowers back at him. "Did Grissom send you here to do his dirty work?"

"Come on, Sara." Suddenly serious, Greg refused to take the flowers back. "He says there's a doctor in New Jersey who can help you, but that you won't go see him."

"It's not that simple, Greg."

He frowned. "Of course it's that simple. You're sick; you go see a doctor."

"I have doctors all around me." She coughed as she indicated the hospital they were in. "Why is Grissom so convinced that one doctor on the other side of the country can do any better than them?"

"Beats me," Greg admitted. "But considering it's Grissom we're talking about, I'd say he's probably going to end up being right."

Sara scowled through another cough. "He'd love that way too much."

"So, you're not going to get help because you want to…I don't know…stick it to Grissom?" Greg snorted. "Great plan, Sara, because if you don't get better and you die, that'll really mess him up." He paused. "Trust me. It really will."

"You guys weren't supposed to find out about us like that."

"Well." Greg swallowed, trying to shrug at the same time. "We did." She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. "And don't apologize. I get why you kept it under wraps."

"It wasn't easy," she said quietly.

"For you, probably. Don't know about him." Greg paused, looking down at his shoelaces. "A real man would've shouted it from the roof."

A coughing fit seized Sara and didn't let go of her for several minutes. When she finally was able to relax, Greg was waiting with a cup of water.

"I taste blood," she whispered.

"Drink it," he urged her. "And go see this doctor in Jersey."

Sara shook her head. "I don't like being weak," she admitted through clenched teeth.

"Weak?" he scoffed. "You freed yourself from the trunk of a car and took on a psycho serial killer. Then you walked across the desert after getting yourself out from under a wrecked car in a flash flood, while you were still half-drugged. If someone calls you weak, I get to kick their ass." He grinned. "Even if it's you."

"I wish you could come to New Jersey. Be my cheerleader."

Greg's smile faltered. "Cards didn't land that way, Sar. And you might be angry at Grissom for…whatever, I don't know…but you can't fool me. I know you want him with you when you go."

She glared at him. "You're so sure that I'm going?"

"Yeah. Because you're not stupid. You didn't survive Natalie just to be defeated by a mystery cough."

Sara sighed. "I can't believe Grissom is entrusting my health to someone we know nothing about."

"At the very least, he's got a friendly-sounding name," Greg pointed out. "Dr. House. I'm picturing a short, pudgy, balding dude with glasses."

"I'll let you know."

"Picture evidence, preferably. Your phone has an awesome camera built in."

Sara looked away, smiling. In choosing someone to talk her into something she didn't really want to do, Grissom had chosen wisely.

It was just too bad he couldn't do it himself.

* * *

_One week later_

When, out of the corner of her eye, Cuddy spotted a familiar figure limping past her office, she dashed out into the hallway to flag him down. "House?"

He stopped, but didn't turn to face her. "Dr. House isn't here at the moment. Leave a message and he'll get back to you when or if he feels like it."

Cuddy folded her arms in exasperation, unknowingly pushing her cleavage up and out. "I am not in the mood today to…"

House held up his hand. "Beeeeeep," he finished several seconds later.

With pursed lips, the dean of medicine went on. "Thirty-five year old female presents with a sporadic, low-grade fever, confusion, occasional night sweats and persistent coughing fits accompanied by blood. Chest x-rays show no congestion. Blood work comes back clean."

He glanced at her over his shoulder. "Unless this gets really interesting really soon, I'm never going to call you back."

"The specialists at the biggest hospital in Las Vegas are completely stumped," she tempted him.

"Gee, you mean the best doctors on the Strip couldn't tear themselves away from the poker table long enough to diagnose a patient with pneumonia? Maybe she should've taken her top off and given them a show." Leaning heavily on his cane, he kept walking.

Cuddy overtook him seconds later, blocking his path with her body. "It's not pneumonia. Did you catch the part about clear chest films?"

"Were you hung-over in a frat house bedroom on the day they taught atypical pneumonia in your pre-med class?"

"Atypical pneumonia wouldn't explain a clear chest film," Cuddy reminded him.

"I know. I just really wanted to use that frat house line." House went around her. "Did the Rat Pack docs get a CT?"

She followed him down the hallway. "She's clear. No sign of any tumors. But I assume you'll want to run your own tests?"

"To assume that, you'd first have to assume that I'm taking the case just because you…I don't know…wore that top today and apparently forgot to button it all the way up."

Cuddy glanced down at her chest; when she looked back up a second later, her brow was crinkled in a deep frown. "I assume, Dr. House, that as a board-certified, Hippocratic-oath sworn physician who is paid quite a bit of money by this hospital to cure patients, you're eager to put your years of training and expertise into finding out what's wrong with the one patient your department has this week."

"Well, you know what happens when you assume. Me? I never assume. I just know. Like I know that I wouldn't even be hearing about this case unless the patient knows someone who knows someone who gives us a lot of money." House pretended to think. "Board member, perhaps?"

Her sweet smile was sticky with poison. "She's a scientist. Criminologist. She went to Harvard. So please, try not to treat her like a stripper just because she's from Las Vegas."

"If her name ends with an 'i,' all bets are off," House warned her.

Triumphant, if only for the moment, Cuddy turned on her expensive heel to head back to her office. "Sorry, it's Sara. And Cameron and Chase are already with her."

* * *

"I really feel like I know you from somewhere."

Sara turned her head away before the pretty, but impossibly young-looking doctor slid a needle into the crook of her good arm. "Have you ever been arrested in Las Vegas?"

As the vial attached to the needle filled with blood, Cameron shook her head. "Not that I can remember."

On the other side of the hospital bed, Chase made a note on Sara's chart. "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?"

"Wow, haven't heard that before." Sara coughed suddenly, jerking her arm. "I'm sorry," she apologized.

"It's okay," Cameron assured her. "I already got the sample." She studied Sara for a moment. "Is the cough getting worse?"

Sara nodded reluctantly. "I can't even sleep anymore. I just cough all night." Her lips twisted ruefully. "That wouldn't have been a problem a few years ago. I never slept anyway."

Chase frowned. "You have a history of insomnia?"

"I was a workaholic who didn't bother to take care of herself." Sara closed her eyes. "I guess I'm paying for it now."

"What changed?" Cameron wondered.

The tense lines that had been pulling at the corners of Sara's mouth relaxed as she opened her eyes and spotted something across the room. "Gil."

Both doctors turned to see the man who entered, a laptop case slung over his shoulder. He walked to the end of Sara's bed. "I called Catherine to let her know we got here. Greg grabbed the phone and told me to tell you, 'Yo' and that you owe him a picture. Whatever that means."

Sara smiled. "Dr. Cameron, Dr. Chase…this is Dr. Gil Grissom." She coughed. "He has my power of attorney. Just so you're aware."

"What's your specialty, Doctor?" Chase asked.

"Insects." Grissom's stare was fixed on Sara, but his next question was directed at the doctors. "When will Dr. House be joining us?"

Cameron and Chase exchanged a look. "It depends," Cameron said.

"On what?"

"On the results of these tests," Chase finished. "Now, Sara, how long ago did you break your arm?"

Because Sara had started coughing, Grissom answered for her. "Over a month ago. And it's only fractured."

"In two places," Sara added when she'd regained control over her throat.

"It's healing just fine, though," Grissom finished. "She says it barely aches anymore."

Cameron took Sara's chart and scribbled a note. "Well, we'll want to get an X-ray of it to make sure the bone is setting properly."

"Could that be the source of the problem?" Grissom unconsciously settled his hand on Sara's foot through the hospital blanket that covered it. "The doctors back home claimed there was no infection."

"Some infections hide from regular testing," Chase told him.

"But we're very good at finding them." Cameron smiled warmly. "For now, Sara, we're going to start you on antibiotics..." She stopped when she noticed Sara wincing. "Are you okay?"

"I need to use the bathroom," Sara confessed. She started to swing her legs over the side of the bed. Red-hot agony ripped through her belly and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out as her feet landed on the cold floor.

It was almost instinctual for Grissom to offer her his hand. "Do you need any help?"

"No." Sweat beaded her upper lip, but Sara ignored the hand he held out to her. "I'm fine. Just fine." With slow, deliberate steps, she headed for the small bathroom.

Grissom wasn't the only one who watched her go. With the beginnings of a puzzled frown, Cameron observed her patient's careful, heavy gait, mentally filing away this piece of information. Sara Sidle was in a lot of pain. And she didn't want anyone, especially her partner, to know about it.

* * *

To Be Continued


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Thank you so much for all the kind words!! I hope you keep enjoying it!

* * *

A House is Not a Home

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

"They are a couple, right?" Foreman held Sara Sidle's X-ray up to the light. "But they're not married?"

Chase polished an apple on his sleeve with a scoffing look. "Nah, no way. They're just co-workers. Friends, at the most."

"What makes you say that?" Cameron asked coolly. "Did you see how he couldn't take his eyes off of her? Not to mention that whole power of attorney thing."

"Did you see how much older he is?" Chase shot back. "You of all people should know…that never works out."

Cameron stared at him for a second. "That was low."

Foreman shook his head, still staring up at the X-ray. "You hang around House too long, it's inevitable you're going to end up sounding just like him."

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's not nice to talk about someone when they're not there to defend themselves?" House limped into the room. "Are you waiting for that X-ray to come to life and tell you that there's nothing wrong with her arm other than a couple of half-healed fractures?" he asked Foreman.

"You've already seen it?" Foreman asked, lowering the film.

"I can see it from here."

"Is there any particular reason we've taken this patient?" Chase asked all of a sudden. "She has a cough and a fever. She's not exactly at death's door."

House lifted his eyebrows in mock surprise. "You don't think it's interesting that a thirty-five year old woman is coughing up blood for no apparent reason?"

"No. I just don't believe you find it interesting."

"Did I say I find it interesting?" House countered.

Chase folded his arms. "If you don't find it interesting, then my question stands. Why have we…"

"She's in pain," Cameron cut him off. The men looked at her. "She could barely walk to the bathroom."

House reached for her chart and pretended to flip through it. "I don't see 'pain' listed anywhere in her symptoms. Vague it up a little bit, and maybe we'd have somewhere to start from."

"Why wouldn't she want her doctors to know she's in pain?" Foreman wondered.

House glanced at his team. "Any guesses?" When they said nothing, he sighed. "This isn't any fun if I have to do all the work."

"It's not listed because she doesn't want anyone to know about it," Cameron said, ignoring him. "Especially her boyfriend." She shot Chase a significant look on the last word.

"And the reason she doesn't want him to know about it?" House prompted, as if he was speaking to a group of toddlers.

Chase returned Cameron's look with one of his own. "Because she's stupid and trying to tough it out."

"Name-calling." House clucked his tongue. "Haven't I taught you better than that?"

"Where do you think he learned it?" Foreman stood up. "Here's a radical idea. Get the boyfriend out of the room and ask her."

"Talking to the patient isn't something any of you should have learned from me," House declared. "But since we're only going on Cameron's blink-and-you'll-miss-it observation, it's better than nothing. Foreman, you tackle the boyfriend, and try not to enjoy it too much. Cameron…" He looked her up and down. "Narrow the pain down to an area, at least. Nothing really specific, though. Nobody likes an overachiever."

Cameron was the last to leave the room. She paused at the door and looked back at their boss as he pulled out his Vicodin bottle. "You never answered Chase's question," she said. "Why did you agree to take this case?"

"Would you believe it was out of the goodness of my heart?"

"I would. If I still believed there was goodness in your…" She stopped, shaking her head. "No. I refuse to start sounding like you. I don't care what Foreman says."

House popped two pills. "Does it make you a better person to just think stuff like that and not actually say it?"

"I don't know." There was a long pause. "All I know is…a few years ago, I wouldn't have even thought it."

When she was gone, he swallowed his meds with a rueful smile. "I remember."

* * *

"'If people were always kind and obedient to those who are cruel and unjust; the wicked people would have it all their own way: they would never feel afraid, and so they would never alter, but would grow worse and…'"

"Gil."

Stopping in mid-sentence, Grissom lowered the leather-bound copy of _Jane Eyre_ and took off his reading glasses. "What's wrong? Should I call a nurse?"

Sara shook her head against the starched hospital pillows. "No. I just want you to stop reading for a minute."

He frowned. "But you told me…"

"I know. I'm sorry." She blew out a ragged breath. "I want to talk to you. When I was in the desert, I told myself…"

"You're not in the desert anymore, honey." Grissom reached for her hand. "I'm right here."

With a harder edge to her voice, she tried again. "To keep going, I told myself there was so much we still hadn't talked about. Well, we still haven't. And I.."

He closed up the book and stood. "Sara, you can't dwell on all of that and have the strength to get through whatever's making you sick."

"So…what?" Her eyes burned with unshed tears as he walked to the window. "We can't even talk about it now? It's all off…" She stopped when a cramp suddenly seized her entire lower body. Somehow she managed to only let out a silent gasp. She gripped the edge of the bed as tightly as she could, mindless of the IV in the back of her hand.

By the time Grissom glanced back at her, the pain had faded back into the ache to which she was accustomed. "Why do you need to talk about it?" he asked softly. "It's over, Sara."

She never got to answer as her phone suddenly rang. Because she started coughing right then, Grissom answered. "Greg," he said with a touch of relief at the interruption. As Sara coughed, he listened to his youngest co-worker talk. "Why would I do that?" he eventually asked him.

"Do what?" Sara choked out.

Grissom put his hand over the receiver with sigh. "He wants to know if you're okay and if you've taken his picture yet."

Sara hadn't known it was possible to laugh and cough at the same time. As she struggled with it, Grissom moved his hand from the phone. "Greg, she's going to have to get back to you on that."

Just as Sara had regained the ability to talk, Cameron entered the room with another doctor in tow.

"Are you Dr. House?" Grissom asked the new arrival.

"No, I'm Dr. Foreman," he introduced himself. "I'm the neurologist on Dr. House's team."

Pure fear gripped Sara, wiping away any leftover amusement from Greg's call. "Do you think something's wrong with my brain?"

"We're not ruling anything out, but considering that you had a clear CT in Las Vegas, it's doubtful." He offered her a smile. "Actually, I've been sent here to separate the two of you so that Dr. Cameron can talk to Sara alone. Dr. House thinks there's something she isn't telling us that she might if you weren't in the room," he told Grissom.

Grissom shook his head. "Excuse me?"

Cameron rushed to cover. "What Dr. Foreman means to say is…"

"Dr. House hasn't even seen fit to meet Sara yet," Grissom protested. "If he had, he would know that she doesn't lie about anything, especially her own health." He looked back at her, but she refused to meet his eyes. "Sara?"

"Gil." She glanced up for half a second before looking away again. "Maybe you could go get some coffee?"

A minute dragged by as Grissom stared at her, waiting for her to look back. When it became clear that she wasn't going to lift her gaze up from her hands, he walked out the door without a word.

Cameron glared at Foreman. "He'd be so proud of you right now." With only a regretful shrug, Foreman left the room. As soon as he was gone, Cameron turned to Sara. "I am very sorry about…"

"Its all right. Subterfuge wouldn't have worked with him." Sara let out a pent-up breath. "And you don't need to ask, Dr. Cameron," she said, pushing a tear out of her eye before it could fall. "It's my lower abdomen. I have cramps. All the time." She paused. "Bad ones."

"On any particular side?"

"I had my appendix taken out when I was twenty-two."

"How long have you been experiencing the pain?"

"Ever since this happened." Sara indicated her arm. "Another fun side-effect of being kidnapped, put under a car and left to die in the desert."

Cameron put her hand to her mouth. "That's where I know you from! We watched your rescue on TV awhile back." She frowned as the wheels in her mind turned. "Maybe your doctors at the time missed a fracture in your pelvis or…"

Sara shook her head. "They ruled out everything. Even did exploratory surgery." Her lip trembled. "I think Gil got every doctor in the hospital to take a look at me before he let me…" Her voice cracked. "…let me come home."

"You live together then?" Sara nodded, composing herself. "But he's also your…?" She waited for Sara to fill in the blank.

"Boss." Off the doctor's look, Sara said, "I take it you don't believe in inter-office relationships?"

Cameron blinked. "Not anymore. Not real ones, at least. But I also don't judge the people it…you know…works out for." She cleared her throat. "Is there anything else we should know about? Any other pain? Odd symptoms?" When Sara shook her head, she hesitantly added, "Could you be pregnant?"

"No. We haven't…not since the desert." Sara glanced at the door as if she expected Grissom to walk back through it at any second. "He'll forgive me for lying. He won't forgive himself for not noticing that I was."

"Dr. Foreman was wrong to…"

"The truth always comes out," Sara murmured. "I'm just not usually the one hiding it." When Cameron started to go, she stopped her. "If you see Gil, please tell him…"

Cameron didn't need her to finish the thought. "I'll do my best." She smiled softly. "Get some sleep. I'm sure I'll be back soon."

* * *

"What's the differential diagnosis for acute abdominal pain?"

"With bloody cough and night sweats?" Chase shrugged. "Nothing."

House threw a ball into the air and caught it a second later. "At least I'm pretending to care about this case. You should try it out, too." He turned his focus to the other two members of his team. "Question stands."

"Don't forget confusion," Cameron said.

"According to the file, that only happened once and it didn't last very long," Chase pointed out. "Can we really count it?"

House threw the ball in the general direction of his desk. "I'm sure your high school prom date said the same thing."

"What about simple appendicitis?" Foreman guessed.

"With a cough?" Cameron shook her head. "Besides, she's already had it removed."

"Tumor?" he guessed again.

House pointed at Foreman. "See, Chase? That's how you pretend to care. Come up with a bunch of really dumb suggestions."

"The doctors in Vegas didn't find anything when they did exploratory surgery after her…ordeal," Cameron said for lack of a better word.

House swiveled in his chair until he was facing her directly. "_Pardon moi_? Surgery? Ordeal? My ears…my, how they perk up."

"Sara is the cop who was kidnapped and left to die in the desert. Remember?" Off his blank stare, she sighed. "She preempted _Passions_. Try not to hold it against her."

"That certainly explains her fractured arm. Could explain everything else, too," Foreman said. "Post-traumatic stress."

"I don't think it's all in her head," Cameron said with a frown. "She's in real pain."

Chase shook his head. "Confusion and night sweats can be symptoms of PTSD."

"She's been lying to her boyfriend…and he is her boyfriend, by the way…knowing full well that keeping it from him would hurt their relationship. She wouldn't do that if there wasn't actual pain to hide," Cameron argued.

Foreman folded his arms. "Which leads us back to the question, why is she hiding…"

"It never ceases to amaze me how you never cease to ask stupid questions when you can't answer the one put in front of you." House leaned back in his chair. "Acute abdominal pain that's not appendicitis." Cameron opened her mouth to add something, but House waved her off. "Or PTSD. Sheesh. One-track mind today."

"What about an ectopic pregnancy?" Chase suggested.

"Doubtful. They haven't had sex since her incident," Cameron said.

House made a scoffing noise. "If you buy that, I have some magic beans I'd like to sell you. How much older is the boyfriend?"

Foreman shrugged. "Fifteen, twenty years?"

"And is she hot?" House looked at Chase.

He blinked. "Um…she's attractive. I suppose." He shot a nervous glance at Cameron. "Not exactly my type."

House looked at Foreman, expectantly waiting for an answer to the same question. "She's hotter than he is," Foreman said.

"So, he's a middle-aged fart with a reasonably hot trophy girlfriend who works for him. Unless he's an idiot, there's no way he's not hitting that as often as his blue pills let him." Avoiding Cameron's eyes, House stood up, leaning heavily on the table for support. "Get a pregnancy test and ultrasound her belly. Let's see if we've got ourselves another patient."

* * *

To Be Continued


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I cannot thank everyone enough for the amazing feedback! Just know that it is so very appreciated. Special thanks go out to Lisa and Cinco;)

* * *

A House is Not a Home

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

The coughing was worse when Grissom was gone. Lying in the hospital bed, all Sara could do was stare out the window while her body was wracked with coughs. Clouds were gathering in the sky; it was going to rain soon.

She hadn't seen rain since the night in the desert. Strangely, the coming storm didn't fill her with any additional anxiety. She was almost happy to see it, a break from the cheerful monotony of the sun.

Although she couldn't remember falling asleep, the first slap of lightning and rumble of thunder woke her up in a start. There was a very familiar shape at the window, watching the rain sliding down the glass outside as he talked on the phone.

"I don't know when we'll be back, Jim," he said to the man on the other end. "This Dr. House hasn't even examined her yet. I'm starting to doubt he actually exists." There was a long pause. "Ecklie can think whatever he wants to think. We both have too much vacation time on the books for him to complain about us taking a week or two off." Another pause. "I know that you knew. Your award for observation will be arriving in the mail any day now."

"Gil," Sara whispered.

"I have to go, Jim. Sure. I'll tell her." Closing up his phone, Grissom turned around. "Brass says to tell you hello and that you had better feel well soon." He slowly walked to the bed. "So. Just how are you feeling?" He paused. "And please tell me the truth."

Sara shook her head, stifling a cough. "I'm…surviving."

"That's not really an answer."

"I know."

"When did we start keeping secrets from each other?" he wondered out loud, without accusation.

Sara lifted her shoulder. "I'm pretty sure you started it."

He conceded with a nod. "I probably did."

"Gil, I'm sorry I…"

Grissom held up a hand, silently stopping her apology. "If I let myself be angry at you for having secrets, I'd be the worst kind of hypocrite." He paused. "It's impossible to know everything about someone. But Sara…you are the one person in the world who knows the most about me. And I want to be that person for you."

After a moment, she held out her hand to him. He needed no beckoning; he was at her side in seconds, entwining her fingers through his. "Let's try this again. How are you feeling?"

She blinked rapidly, forcing tears back. "Tired," she admitted. "Weak."

"That is the last thing you are, honey." He kissed the back of her hand, careful of her IV. "You're the strongest woman I know. Which is why I have no doubt that you're going to be walking out of here soon."

"Let's hope it's that easy." Sara waited a few seconds, gathering the strength he seemed so sure that she possessed. "I need to tell you something. Ever since the desert…"

There was a knock on the door and a second later, Dr. Cameron entered. "Excuse me," she apologized. A smile spread on her face when she saw them together. "I'm sorry to bother you, but Dr. House has ordered another test." She gestured to a nurse who followed behind her, wheeling in an ultrasound machine.

Sara coughed, frowning. "What's that for?"

"We're just going to take a look at your belly," Cameron assured her. "I'll be as gentle as possible, I promise."

Grissom was confused. "Why an ultrasound?"

Cameron glanced at Sara. "You haven't told him yet?"

"Told me what?"

Sara sighed. "I've been having some…pain." Her hand drifted down to her lower abdomen. "Here. I didn't say anything because…" Sara shook her head. "I don't like being weak."

Panic was written all over his face. "Honey, you're not. You beat impossible odds. You…"

"Please stop acting like I did something incredible by not dying," she snapped. "If Nick had found me five minutes later, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Grissom blinked and took a step back, unable to come up with anything to say.

Cameron hesitantly broke the silence that followed. "Sara…if you'd just lift your gown up a bit, we can get started." She paused. "Will Dr. Grissom be staying?"

"If he wants." Sara bunched the hem of her gown up just below her breasts and leaving her pale, flat abdomen exposed. She took a deep breath and coughed. "Are you looking for something specific?"

After squeezing cold gel onto Sara's belly, Cameron tugged on the cord that attached the probe to the machine. "Relax, Sara." She moved the probe over Sara's skin, aided by the slick gel. On the screen, a blurry image of Sara's uterus appeared.

Sara blinked. "You think I'm pregnant."

"We're ruling out everything," Cameron said. Adjusting the angle of the probe, she examined the screen closely, searching for any signs of life. "But…I don't see a baby."

"Because I'm not pregnant," Sara firmly stated.

Cameron squinted at the monitor. "Have you ever been pregnant?"

"No."

A moment passed. "Are you sure?"

"I think I would remember that," Sara said sourly. As Cameron moved the probe to a new area, pain stabbed her. She drew in a sharp breath.

"I'm sorry," Cameron murmured. "I just need to get a clearer picture."

Grissom swallowed heavily, nervously. "Clearer picture of what?"

Having captured the image she wanted, Cameron hit a few buttons on the machine, saving it. She removed the probe and handed Sara a couple of tissues for the gel. "I think there's some scarring on your uterus," she finally answered.

"Scarring?" Sara repeated. "How would I have gotten…"

"D&C, most likely."

Grissom and Sara turned their heads towards the door at the same time. A slightly unkempt man in a sports jacket and jeans leaned against the doorframe. He had a cane in his hand and a look of inconvenienced boredom on his unshaven face.

"Although they're not commonly used for abortions these days, if you had the dumb luck to get knocked up ten to fifteen years ago, you would have most likely had the little nuisance scraped off your uterine wall with a D&C, leaving only a few scars behind to mark the place where your unwanted spawn once grew."

Sara looked at Cameron. "Please tell me this isn't…"

"Dr. House." The young woman sighed with both regret and apology. "Sara Sidle and Dr. Gil Grissom," she introduced them.

Using his cane, the man limped into the room. "I already know ol' Gil here. I used his articles from the _International Journal of Biological Sciences_ to cure my insomnia in medical school."

Grissom's brow crinkled. "Which ones?"

"Only the ones about bugs," House assured him.

"They were all about…"

"Excuse me!" Sara pointed a finger at the newcomer. "Let's get something straight right away. I've never had an abortion. I've never even been pregnant. And I deeply resent your implication that I'm lying."

"I deeply resent that you made me miss _Passions_," House shot back.

"I did what?"

Ignoring her, House made his way to the ultrasound machine. "There's pretty much only one way to get the kind of scarring that leaves you in acute pain." He examined the frozen image on the screen, looked back at Sara, then looked back at the screen.

Cameron frowned. "What? What do you see?"

With his pinky, House pointed out the darkest shaded areas on the ultrasound image. "That's not old scarring." Suddenly grave, he gave his colleague a few seconds to see what he was seeing. "Starts with an 'a'," he prompted.

"Asherman's syndrome," Cameron breathed a second later.

"The adhesions are fresh. Certainly not something that would have been missed in exploratory surgery." House looked at Sara. "Just what were your surgeons exploring for? Hidden silver?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I was mostly unconscious for a couple of days."

He turned his stare to Grissom, who was still quiet, but now a shade paler than before. "Which leaves you. Any insights?"

Grissom cleared his throat. "Sara was abducted by a woman who killed four people. She was drugged, stuck under a car and left in the desert. She nearly drowned in a flash flood. She freed herself and walked for miles in 100 degree heat with a broken arm."

"_Passions _tells a better story." House moved closer to Grissom. "While she was unconscious, who made all of her medical decisions?" Grissom glared at him. "I'll take that as, 'Dr. House, I admit it was me'."

Sara looked at Cameron. "I don't understand. What's Asherman's syndrome?"

"It basically means that you've formed some adhesions…internal fibrous bands…on your uterine wall. They've probably been the cause of your pain." Cameron hesitated. "They're not old. Which means…you've had some kind of surgery in your womb. Recently."

Sara tried to lick her lips, but her tongue was dry. "The exploratory…"

House cut her off. "Wouldn't cause this." He was still looking at Grissom. "Is there something you'd like to share with us?"

"Can I have minute alone with…"

Grissom was cut off by House. "Patient's unstable. It would be enormously unethical of me to leave her side and miss this show, too."

"Gil?" Sara's voice was tiny and worried.

"Sara." Grissom's hands were shaking. He gripped the metal frame of the bed to keep them steady. "I need you to know…your safety, your happiness, your life…are more important to me than anything else in the world. Please remember that, honey," he begged her. "Please."

She shook her head against her pillow, tears collecting in her eyes. "I don't want to hear you say…what I think you're about to say."

He looked down at the floor, still holding onto the bed. "The doctor said you were probably only a month or so along. You might not even have suspected for another week or so." When he looked back up at her, his eyes were wet. "You survived all of the trauma…but our baby didn't."

Sara made a tiny noise in the back of her throat, a whimper of pure heartbreak. Cameron looked away, but House watched the unfolding scene without blinking an eye.

Unaware or uncaring of their audience, Grissom went on, each word heavy and pain-filled. "You were so dehydrated, honey. They were worried about your…bleeding if you just lost…naturally, so they just…removed the…the…what there was of the…baby and…" He stopped for a long moment to collect himself. "It was my decision not to tell you, so you'd never have to know that you were…that you had been pregnant." He answered the question that burned in her watery stare, "I couldn't let Natalie take something else away from us."

Sara pressed her hand against her still-exposed belly. "Is this why you want to move past all of this so badly? You want to forget about our…" Her chin trembled. "…our child?"

"No!" He reached for her hand, but she jerked it away from him. "Sara, honey, please try to understand that I…"

She cut him off by addressing House, ignoring Grissom as though he was no longer in the room. It was the only way she could keep from breaking down entirely. "What do you have to do to make the pain stop?"

"I only know how to make physical pain go away," House told her.

"That's all I care about right now."

"It's a fairly simple surgical procedure to remove the adhesions," he continued after studying her for a second. "I'm obligated to inform you that there is a small risk of infertility, even if the surgeon manages to get them all." House glanced at Grissom. "But I somehow doubt that fertility is going to be an issue for awhile." He shook his head. "Hope you like your right hand, Doc. You're probably going to get to know it intimately."

"You know, I think it's refreshing to find a doctor who doesn't sugarcoat bad news," Sara said, her voice flat and lifeless. "But considering that we're talking about my odds of bearing children in the future, not to mention the dead child that was sucked out of me without my knowledge, could you maybe dial back the morbid comedy routine? At least until I'm under anesthesia and don't have to listen to it anymore."

Cameron's cheeks caved in as she fought a major internal battle to keep from smiling. The look on her boss's face wasn't one she'd ever seen before. "I'll go schedule the surgery," she said a moment later. One glimpse of the devastated look on Grissom's face was more than enough to sober her up. "Excuse me." With that, she slipped out of the room.

"As much as I love a good awkward silence, my Vicodin is wearing off. And your emotional agony's got nothing on my leg." Just as abruptly as he'd limped in, House limped out, leaving Grissom and Sara alone.

"Sara…" Grissom began. He let her name hang between them, unable to come up with any words to follow it for a long time. "I'm sorry," he finally finished.

Her hand shook as she lowered her hospital gown back into place. It was still raining outside, like the universe was shedding all the tears for her lost child that she couldn't yet bring herself to unleash.

"Would you have ever told me?" she asked.

Grissom cleared his throat. "If I'd known you were in pain, of course. But I didn't know. Did I?"

"You don't get to put this back on me, Gil. You've had a whole month to grieve for our baby. I just found out we were going to have one." She gripped the blanket that covered her legs. "Natalie took a lot away from me, yes, but you took something, too. Even though I know you thought you were protecting me, it doesn't matter. I had one person in this world that I trusted completely." She shook her head. "I don't have that anymore."

"Honey…"

"I'd really like to be alone right now."

After a moment, Grissom nodded slowly. "All right." He walked to the door. "But Sara…when you wake up, I'm going to be there. Just so you know."

As soon as he was gone, Sara began coughing again.

* * *

To Be Continued


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I don't have enough ways to say thanks to Lisa for her help with this chapter. And I'm so, so grateful to everyone who's read and reviewed so far. Thank you:)

* * *

A House is Not a Home

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

Cuddy found House in the surgical observation area several hours later, watching Sara Sidle's operation. She came up next to him without a word. For several long minutes, they stood as silent observers while the surgeons below laproscopically removed the last traces of Sara's too-short pregnancy.

"Don't tell me," House broke the silence. "Doctor Gil doesn't like me and you want me to apologize to him."

"Did you do something that warrants an apology?" she asked, glancing over at him.

House's stare remained fixed on the woman lying on the operating table. "I told him his journal articles were boring."

She arched an eyebrow. "You also figured out what's wrong with his girlfriend," she reminded him. "I think he'll get over it."

"Not really."

Cuddy frowned. "Well, who cares if he doesn't? You're entitled to your own opinion about his writing. Although from what I hear, he's actually a very gifted lecturer in his field. It probably wouldn't hurt for you…"

"Asherman's syndrome doesn't explain any of her other symptoms." House paused. "What do you know about her?"

"Don't tell me you haven't even met with her yet," Cuddy groaned.

"Untwist your thong. I've talked to her. I even sort of examined her."

"Great. That's just how I like my doctors to work. Sort of."

House pointed down into the room. "What the hell does a woman like that see in an old guy who writes mind-numbingly dull papers about bugs?"

Cuddy blinked. "I think I'm having an auditory hallucination. Are you attracted to your patient, Dr. House?"

"Especially now that I've watched a surgeon go up her hoo-ha with a camera and a pair of microscissors," he snarked. "You never realize how much you care until you actually get to see a woman's cervix from the inside."

"I had to remind you of your Hippocratic Oath to get you to take this case at all, and now you're up here watching her routine surgery…" She glanced at her watch. "…during _General Hospital_, no less. For those of us who speak your infantile language, that means you can't stop thinking about her."

House moved closer to the glass window. "Isn't there an intern somewhere that you could be corrupting with your cleavage?"

"It's the law enforcement thing, isn't it?" Cuddy continued with a fair amount of amusement. "You like the idea of a woman with handcuffs."

"Just as long as they're not fuzzy," he shot back. "Oops! Guess that leaves you out in the cold."

She shook her head. "Why should I even bother having a child of my own when I get to be around you all day?" When he said nothing, she rolled her eyes. "Whatever's going on in your head, remember that she came here with a devoted boyfriend. Let's try to send her home the same way."

"Yes, my definition of devotion also includes covering up a D&C. I can't figure out why more men don't do it." House popped a Vicodin. "Makes for such a nice surprise a month or so down the line."

Cuddy crossed her arms. "Was he protecting her?"

He swallowed his meds. "So he says."

"And I suppose giving him the benefit of the doubt hasn't even crossed your mind."

"Oh, I already doubt him," House assured her. "I doubt his actions were more to spare her feelings than to escape his own."

She shot him a look. "Psychoanalysis is better left to people who believe in it." She started for the exit. "Don't forget, you owe me two hours of clinic duty before you leave today."

"Yeah," he muttered. Down below, the gynecologist looked up and raised his thumb, indicating a successful surgery. "I'll get right on that."

* * *

Grissom knew who was calling him from the moment his phone began to ring. He also knew that ignoring the call wasn't going to make the caller give up. Reluctantly, he reached into his pocket for his cell.

"Catherine," he greeted the caller without even looking at the screen. "This isn't a good time."

"Oh, don't even think you're blowing me off that easily, Gil." He could picture her putting on hand on her hip as she spoke. "I have a whole lab full of people who want news about Sara, and I'm not hanging up until you give me some." She paused. "Is she okay?"

Grissom glanced around before running his hand down his face. "I messed up, Catherine."

"Of course you did. Is Sara all right?"

He frowned. "What kind of reply is that?"

"The honest kind," Catherine said. "Considering your track record with women."

"Sara isn't just another woman."

Catherine hesitated. "I know that. Now," she added pointedly. "Two years later than I should have." She sighed in fruitless exasperation. "Look, if the mistakes you've made in the past didn't drive her away, I don't think anything will. And you're damn lucky for it. Trust me, if my man had spent the night with a dominatrix without telling me, I'd introduce his balls to the heel of my tallest stilettos."

"This is so much bigger, Cath." Standing up from the horribly uncomfortable waiting room chair, Grissom shook his head. "I'm not sure even Sara will be able to forgive me for this."

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Her question was met with silence. "Okay," she agreed. "Not yet." Another moment passed. "Gil? Still with me?"

"I lied to her," he suddenly said. "Well…I withheld the truth, which is still a lie." He swallowed heavily. "I just didn't want to see our loss every time I looked in her eyes, you know?"

"I don't know, Gil, because you haven't told me," Catherine reminded him. "That being said, here's what I do know. You and Sara…you just get each other. It's really kind of weird. It's definitely the reason I didn't try to sleep with you after Eddie died. So whatever your lie was and whatever your reason was for telling it, eventually she'll figure out why you did. And she will forgive you. It's just a matter of time."

Grissom's eyebrow lifted. "You wanted to sleep with me after Eddie died?"

"I was a wreck, Gil. I thought about seducing Greg, too." Catherine paused. "Now c'mon. Give me something to tell the guys. I can't go in to work without some news."

"Tell them…Sara's in competent hands and she's going to be just fine."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire."

Upon turning around, Grissom found himself face-to-unshaven face with Sara's doctor. His already-foul mood plummeted. "Catherine," he said into the phone. "I have to go." Without waiting for a reply, he closed up his phone. "Are you saying Sara isn't going to be fine or she isn't in competent hands?" he asked House.

"Oh!" House pointed at Grissom with a too-wide grin. "That was good. That was really, really good."

Grissom could literally feel his heart rate speeding up. "Unless you're here with news about Sara, we have nothing to discuss, Dr. House"

"Would you like me more if I'd told you I found your bug articles fascinating?"

"Do you have any news or not?"

"They're wheeling her into recovery as we speak." House lowered himself into a chair and tapped the seat next to him with his cane. "Take a load off, old man." Grissom didn't move. "Fine, stand right there and look down at me. Whatever works for you." With narrowed eyes, House considered him from head to toe. "Tell me something, Doc. What do you think she sees in you?"

"Do you talk to all of your patient's families like this or am I unfortunately special somehow?"

"All doctors have a bed-side manner. Mine just happens to suck." House leaned forward. "You're fifty if you're a day. Your hair is graying. You've probably lost some weight recently, but you're nowhere near ready for the _Beefcakes of the LVPD_ calendar. You truly believe, deep down inside, that dung beetles are fascinating." He shook his head. "Where is the attraction for a thirty-five year old woman in the prime of her life?"

"Don't you think I've asked myself that same question?" Grissom snapped. After a deep breath to slow down his pulse, he tried again. "No one has ever accused me of self-delusion. I am entirely aware of my faults. I don't need you to point them out."

He started to go, but the disheveled doctor stopped him with another question. "How exactly do you justify knocking up your subordinate?"

Grissom turned back to him with a mild smile. "Sara is subordinate to no one."

"But she respects you? Admires you? Adores you? Looks up at you with those big brown bedroom eyes, fairly pleading with you…'teach me, Dr. G.; teach me tonight!' And you…what? Reluctantly gave in after a valiant struggle with your conscience?" House tipped his imaginary hat at Grissom. "On behalf of all old men with hot, younger employees, let me offer you congratulations for hitting that. I'm sure she was worth it."

"Who is your forbidden flesh?" Grissom asked after a moment of studying the man in front of him. "A nurse? An intern?"

With the help of his cane, House stood up. "We're in my hospital, not your interrogation room. How do you justify it, Doc?"

"You sound like you're waiting for me to say something specific," Grissom said. "Like you have a comeback already written in your head."

"Maybe I do. Want to hear it?"

"No."

"But it's a really good one," House promised. "You'll be sorry you missed it."

"I'm only sorry that I'm still entertaining this exchange." Grissom started to leave again, but again was stopped, this time by House physically throwing himself in his path. "You're impressively spry for someone who needs a cane. Old man."

House's smirk was nothing short of contemptuous. "You didn't just knock her up. You kept it a secret, even from her!" He shook his head. "But who better to get rid of evidence than a crime scene investigator?"

Grissom stared at him. "If I didn't know better, I would think you were trying to get me to take a swing at you."

"You wouldn't be the first," House assured him.

"I have no doubt. However I'm sorry to say…that's not my style."

Grissom only managed to get a few steps further down the hallway before House stopped him yet again. "Were you happy the baby didn't make it, Gil?"

It was a long time before Grissom turned around. When he did, his expression was cold, yet curious at the same time. "What exactly are you hoping to hear me say, Dr. House?"

"Answering questions with questions. Is this how you get those hardened criminals to break?"

Grissom folded his arms. "Acerbic wit and offensiveness. Is this how you heal people?"

Blue stare met blue glare. The deadlock might have gone on forever had House's pager not suddenly gone off. Cursing silently, he reached for it, breaking eye contact first. After a quick glance at the display, House looked back at Grissom.

"She's in the ICU. If you want to be there when she wakes up, with apologies and promises that you'll be a better man from now on, you should hurry."

Grissom started to reply, but thought better of it at the last second. Without a word, he sidestepped Sara's doctor and started for the elevators. Sara might not want to see him, but Grissom was determined to be the first face she saw upon waking.

* * *

To Be Continued


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I am so, so, so grateful for all the incredible feedback on this story so far. You guys are just way too kind, and I am so happy that you're enjoying it! Thank you again to my great betas and friends, Lisa and Cinco;)

* * *

A House is Not a Home

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

"There's only two things that could have you glued to your computer screen." Standing in the door to House's darkened office, James Wilson considered his friend with a patient, but slightly superior eye. "And I believe Cuddy had a firewall installed to keep out one of them."

"I could be here in researching how to save a child's life," House said, his eyes never leaving the monitor. "And all you can do is make porn jokes."

"If you're saving a child's life, I stand corrected." Wilson paused. "Are you saving a child's life?"

House pecked at the keyboard. "I'm stalking a chick from Vegas."

"Ah, yes. A far more noble use of the hospital's resources." A minute crept by. "So…" Wilson finally prompted.

Glancing away from the monitor, House frowned. "Are you still here?"

"You sent me an email asking me to stop by," Wilson reminded him with more than a little exasperation.

House thought for a second. "So I did." He waved a hand at the large file folder on his desk. "Take look at that."

After opening the file, Wilson frowned at the contents. "Chest films and a head CT. What am I looking for?"

"What's that 'c' word that you're always chasing after?" House tapped his chin in mock contemplation. "Rhymes with 'runt.' No, wait! Sorry! Rhymes with 'lancer'. My bad."

"As ever, the soul of tact." With the films in hand, Wilson walked back to the light switch and turned it on. After examining them for a few minutes, he shook his head. "I don't see anything except a healthy brain and a set of lungs that belong to a former smoker." He paused. "Sara Sidle, I take it?"

"Chick from Vegas will suffice." House's froze with his hands on the keyboard. "How do you know her name?"

"Besides the fact that it's printed on the films?" Wilson lifted one shoulder innocently. "It's possible she could be a friend of a friend of my father's." Rolling his eyes, House banged out a few more letters. "Look down on preferential treatment all you want, but you're clearly not all that upset that she's come here. Are you?"

House frowned. "Sounds like a little, under-dressed bird named Cuddy has been squawking in your ear."

"She did mention that you seemed abnormally interested in Miss Sidle. Abnormal for you, at least. I figured that just meant you actually learned her name." He paused. "Is it more than that?"

"How come we're forced to have our credentials plastered all over the hospital's website, but I can't find out anything from the Las Vegas Police Department page about their crime lab scientists?"

"It could have something to do with our website viewers being sick people and their website viewers being criminals." A slow smile spread on Wilson's face. "You like her. You really, really like her."

House snorted. "Go tell someone they've got a couple of weeks to live. I'm busy."

"Is it at all possible that it's not the patient herself, so much as who she reminds you of?" Wilson suggested. For the first time since he'd entered the room, Wilson had House's full attention. Not to mention a scowl that might have crippled a lesser man. "Admittedly, I don't know much more about her than you," Wilson went on, undaunted. "But what I do know is that she's here with her much older boyfriend, who happens to be her boss."

"I'd prefer it if you called him 'the bastard who took advantage of his employee'."

"Or I could call him 'the man who didn't turn down a good thing that offered herself to him on a silver platter'." Wilson put the films back on House's desk. "Could it be that you're interested in finding out why he was able to make it work, while you gave up after only one dinner date?" He put a hand on his chest. "You don't need to stalk anybody in order to find that out. I can tell you exactly why you turned down Cam…"

"Go home, Wilson."

The tone of House's voice left no room for argument. With a resigned sigh, Wilson nodded. "Goodnight, House. Happy stalking."

House waited until he was sure that Wilson had not only left the floor, but had possibly left the entire building before grabbing his cane and heading for the ICU.

* * *

Sara opened her eyes and saw her favorite shade of blue.

"Welcome back," Grissom murmured, gently stroking her hair.

Still loopy from the anesthesia, Sara smiled, her dry lips stretching and cracking. "Hi," she whispered. Her throat felt thick and it ached with each breath. "Gil…"

"Shh, honey," he soothed. "You don't have to talk yet."

"I think…I dreamed about you."

Grissom's lips touched her brow. "I always dream about you, Sara."

"We were shopping." She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, but it was just as dry.

Noticing this, Grissom reached for a cup of half-melted ice chips that the nurse had left behind. "Here." He slipped one into her mouth.

The cold liquid not only felt wonderful on her throat, it gave her enough moisture to wet her lips. "Shopping," she tried again, each word sounding stronger as her mind cleared. "We were…and I…I was…pushing the cart." She accepted another ice chip and waited for it to melt on her tongue. "I kept…putting stuff in…and you kept taking…taking it out…when I wasn't looking."

Grissom set the paper cup aside with a heavy hand. "Sara…honey…"

The haze around her memories was dissipating fast and the pain of her loss stabbed her once again in the heart. "We were going to have a baby," she whispered. All he could do was nod, his eyes burning. "Why did you lie to me?"

"Because everyone does. Even the so-called good guys."

Grissom's expression went from anguished to angry in the time it took Sara to blink. He refused to turn his head to acknowledge the doctor, choosing instead to stay focused on Sara.

House entered the room without waiting for an invitation. "If you wouldn't mind, Doctor G, I'd like to examine my patient. Alone."

Instead of answering House, Grissom cupped Sara's cheek in the palm of his hand. "I don't want to leave you with him."

Sara slowly reached up and moved his hand away. "Gil…he isn't the one who's lied to me."

To his great credit, House didn't even smirk when Grissom silently left the room a moment later. Sara closed her eyes and when she opened them again, the doctor had pulled up a rolling stool alongside her bed and was carefully lowering himself onto it.

"I don't think your boss likes me very much," House said with a pretend pout.

"I don't think you've given him much reason to," Sara replied.

House shrugged. "I don't play well with others."

She smiled faintly. "Then…you have more in common with him than you realize."

"Except I haven't ever seduced one of my employees."

With all the energy she had, Sara shook her head against her pillow. "He isn't just my boss. So I'm not just his employee. And are you so sure…that I was the one who was seduced?"

He stared at her for a second. "Well, now you've got my full attention, Sara Sidle. Don't leave out the details. You owe me a story worthy of _Passions_."

"My tragedy is your latest soap opera?"

"Would that upset you?"

Sara's eyebrow lifted. "Would you care if it did?" When he said nothing, she nodded. "I thought so." A moment passed. "You know…you don't need to tell either of us…that people lie. We know. We hear more lies in one day than you will in a month." A cough bubbled up in her throat. "I wasn't there…it's not my gun…the cops are framing me." She tried to smile. "People lie. Evidence never lies."

House smirked. "I'm still trying to teach that to Cam…" He stopped. "To my staff."

But he didn't fool Sara, even in her condition. "Did you also teach her…that lies aren't always wrong?" A tear trickled down her pale cheek as she looked out into the hallway through the glass wall. Grissom was pacing back and forth, rubbing the back of his neck furiously. "Sometimes the truth hurts more than the lie. And good people tell them to protect…not to deceive."

"A lie is a lie," House said, all triumphant mirth gone. "You had something taken away from you by someone you trusted while you were unconscious. There's no justification for that."

Sara looked back at him with wet eyes. Such a different shade of blue stared back at her. Colder, harder…a half-frozen swimming pool to Grissom's desert oasis.

"What happened to your leg, Dr. House?"

"Observation and deduction," he eventually said. "It's a rare gift."

"It's my job." She watched his face closely. "Are you still with the person who took something away from you?"

House leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "No," he answered after a long minute of silent internal debate.

"And...you think I shouldn't forgive Gil, like you didn't forgive her."

"Forgiveness only helps the person who's being forgiven. Doesn't do a damn thing to heal the person who was wronged."

"At one time...I might have agreed with you." Sara slowly shook her head. "I don't think…I can anymore. Not after the…Natalie…" As her eyelids drooped, her words trailed off.

"Sara?" House stood up, his cane clattering to the floor. "Sara, open your..." Suddenly, her whole body began to jerk violently. "Ah, crap." House hit the nurse call button before limping to the door as fast as he could without his cane. "Someone get in here!" he shouted into the hallway.

His call for help brought Grissom running. "Sara?! She's having a seizure!" he yelled at House as the doctor limped back to his patient.

"Gee, really?" House grasped Sara's slender shoulders. "I thought it was an earthquake only she could feel. Help me roll her."

Despite Sara's flailing limbs, the men managed to get her onto her side, facing Grissom. In a desperate attempt to keep her still, Grissom grabbed her arms and tried to hold them down.

"Don't do that," House ordered. "You'll only hurt her worse that you already have." Grissom glared at him, but released his grip.

Two nurses ran in just then. "Nice of you to join us," he snapped at the women, pointing at each of them in turn. "You, get her on oxygen. You, page my team to my office."

"You're not going to do anything else for her?" Grissom demanded. At that very moment, Sara's body stilled. Kneeling down beside the bed, Grissom cupped her face in his hands. "Sara? Honey…open your eyes!" He glanced at House. "Can she hear me?"

House bent down to retrieve his cane. "Doubtful. But it was a mild seizure. She'll wake up soon."

"A seizure is neurological." Intense worry creased Grissom's brow. "So there is something wrong with her brain."

"That's what I intend to find out." The doctor started limping for the door. "At least we can be pretty sure that you aren't responsible for this, Gil."

* * *

To Be Continued


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: My many thanks. Many, many thanks! Lisa, you rock.

* * *

A House is Not a Home

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

"Think of the Asherman's as the beer goggles that blinded us." Standing at the whiteboard, House began writing symptoms. "Now that it's morning and our heads are clearer, we've discovered that we're in bed with something truly nasty."

"Persistent cough with blood, night sweats, confusion, seizure, sporadic fever," Cameron read out loud. "Did the doctors in Vegas rule out TB?"

"I hope so," House said, capping his marker. "Or, man…is Chase's face gonna be red."

"They did," Foreman said, holding up a page from Sara's medical records.

Cameron frowned. "What if we're looking at this completely wrong? She's a scientist, right? She works in a lab. She's been exposed to God only knows what kind of chemicals."

"I know what kind." Foreman held up another sheet from the file. "Does that make me God?"

"God is a black woman," House reminded him. "Wait…you could be!"

With a grudging grunt of amusement, Foreman glanced at the paper. "On a daily basis, she comes into contact with phenolphthalien, cyanoacrylates...which I guess is just hot glue fumes...and print powder. None of which are toxic if properly used."

"Are we sure she properly uses them?" Chase asked.

"Something tells me Sara lives to follow protocols. It's probably why she jumped into bed with her boss. Inside every good girl, there's a bad girl just looking for a way out." House cocked a glance at Cameron. "A good thought, but no go. What else?"

"Clearly she has some kind of infection," Chase said. "Most likely in her brain."

House nodded with too much seriousness. "Brain infection. Sounds serious. Hope there's a cure for that."

Chase tossed down his pen in defeat. "I was going to add more."

"Good for you." House turned to Cameron. "Tap her spine. Foreman, get another CT. Chase, pout if you must, but when you're done, get another blood culture. And let it fester for a little longer this time."

"Do you expect something to have grown since the last one?" he muttered.

House paused on his way back to his desk. "That might just be the first smart thing you've said today."

* * *

On her way into Sara's room, Cameron passed by Grissom in the hall. He was sitting up in his chair, his stubbled chin resting on his chest, a sleeping sentry protecting Sara from a distance.

Sara was awake, staring out the window. As quietly as possible, Cameron set down the LP tray. "Sara?" When the woman slowly turned her head, Cameron offered her a warm, sympathetic smile. "How are you feeling?"

"I had a seizure," Sara said flatly. "And no one can tell me why."

"Not yet, but we're going to figure it out." Cameron pulled on a pair of gloves. "Dr. House wants to do a lumbar puncture to test your spinal fluid for infection. I'm going to numb your lower back before I start, but it can still hurt." She indicated the man in the hallway. "Should I call him in?"

"To hold my hand?" Sara shook her head. "No, thanks. He doesn't need to see me in pain again. The whole post-kidnapping recovery hurt him even more than it hurt me."

"It can't be a bad thing to have a man who wants to protect you."

"It is when he practically follows you around with a pillow in case you trip." Sara sighed. "What do you need me to do?"

"Just move onto your side and round your back as much as possible," Cameron instructed. "Don't hurt yourself, okay? Just go as far as you can."

Wincing, Sara began shifting onto her right side, drawing her knees up a bit. "So, a lumbar puncture…the CT a little while ago. Does Dr. House have any theories or is he just on a fishing trip?"

"I'm sure he does, but he's not really good at sharing. He likes us to run our own tests and come up with our own theories, so he can tell us why they're wrong." Sara jerked at the cold prick of the local Cameron administered after she wiped the exposed skin with iodine. "Sorry. It should start to kick in soon."

Sara let out a breath. "If I asked, would you tell me why Dr. House needs a cane?"

"I might." Cameron pieced her lumbar needle together. "But before you do, you should know that it's not the reason he is the way he is. I've been assured that he was a jerk way before it happened."

"Do you really think he's a jerk?"

"Why do you say that?"

Sara lifted her slinged shoulder a bit. "You just look at him like…" She stopped.

"How do I look at him?" Cameron asked quietly.

"You look at him…like how I imagine I used to look at Gil. When he wasn't looking, of course." Her lips curled up. "Or at least when I thought he wasn't looking."

Choosing to concentrate on her test and not her patient's words, Cameron centered the long needle just over Sara's spine. "Okay. I want you to take a deep breath and then let it go. Try to relax, but keep still. I'm really good at this and it won't take long."

Sara inhaled and exhaled slowly. When the pain came, she gripped her pillow tightly and bit into her lip hard enough to taste blood. By the time Cameron bandaged the puncture site, the fabric beneath Sara's cheek was soaked through, but she never made a sound.

"I'm going to get this to lab," Cameron said, labeling the vial of clear fluid. "I want you to lie on your back, pretty much like you were before. Try not to move. Call a nurse if you feel a headache or a backache or any tingling in your extremities."

"No problem," Sara whispered, letting herself roll back flat on the bed.

Cameron collected her equipment and disposed of the used needles. Once she was done, she hesitated. "If I asked you a personal question, would you answer it?"

Sara swiped the back of her hand over her wet cheek. "Depends on the question."

"Dr. Grissom…" the younger woman began. "How did you…I mean, what was it that…" She stopped with a faint sigh. "Never mind. I'm sorry." She faked a smile. "Get some rest."

"Dr. Cameron," Sara called out before the doctor reached the sliding door. "It took seven years, three brushes with death, one psychotic rapist and more beer than I care to admit."

"In other words, yours is not the example to follow?" Sara inclined her chin. Cameron smiled again, this time genuinely. "Would you like me to send him in?"

A second passed before Sara shook her head. "Not yet." Cameron lingered at the door, like she wanted to say something, but couldn't quite work up the nerve. "You think I'm punishing him?" Sara asked.

"I think…in the end, you'll punish yourself more if you can't forgive him. And if you want a living example of that, I can page Dr. House."

Sara looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. "Would you ask him to come in, please?"

Through the glass wall, Sara watched as Cameron went to Grissom and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. He woke with a start and Sara read her own name on his lips. The young doctor said something to him and a second later, he was on his feet, heading into Sara's room.

The last thing Cameron saw on her way to the lab was Grissom sitting on the edge of Sara's bed, holding her palm against his cheek.

* * *

"Did you know that the man who invented the modern lumbar puncture was kicked out of Harvard for performing the test on children, and subsequently formed Johns Hopkins Medical School?"

"A proud start for any educational institution," Chase mumbled, peering through his microscope.

House shook Vicodin into his mouth directly from the bottle. "Why do you think I went there?"

Chase glanced up from his samples. "Didn't they kick you out?"

Cameron quickly changed the subject. "I've already told you that there's nothing more than a slightly elevated lactate count in her CSF," she told their boss. "So is there a reason why you're still hanging over our shoulders?"

Limping over to her, House leaned in a close as possible. "Your hair smells pretty?" he guessed. Noticing how suddenly stiff she became, he backed off. "Maybe I just don't trust the two of you in here alone. Too many flat surfaces."

"Who needs a flat surface?" Cameron asked sweetly.

House blinked. "What've you got cooking over there, Chase?" he abruptly asked.

"Nothing. Same as before." With a sigh, Chase pushed away from the counter. "It's not an infection that's showing up in her blood."

"Keep it baking." House glanced back at Cameron. "They say good things come to those who wait."

Cameron looked him straight in the eye. "They also say 'don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today'."

Before House could reply, Foreman burst into the lab. "Got the CT results." He stuck the film he carried up on the nearest light board and turned it on. The team gathered around to examine the images of Sara's brain.

"Well." Cameron shook her head after a long, silent minute. "That explains the high lactate level. An abscess."

"Didn't you have Wilson check her test from Vegas?" Foreman asked.

"How could Wilson have missed that?" Chase wondered.

"Because it wasn't there." House pulled the film down. "Which means it's developed in a week. Which rules out cancer."

Chase smiled triumphantly. "And rules in an infection of the brain, thank you very much."

"Figured out a name for that infection yet? Or how it's causing her to cough up blood?" House asked, heading for the door. Chase scowled, more at House than himself. "No? Then get back to work."

"Where are you going?" Cameron asked.

At almost the exact same time, all four of their pagers went off. House pulled his out first. "I'll be with the patient," he said after checking it. "Trying to get air back into her lungs."

* * *

"If all the world hated you, and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved you, and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends."

Grissom looked up from the book, expecting to see Sara watching him as he read. But she was looking out the window and had clearly stopped paying attention to _Jane Eyre_.

He cleared his throat and the slight noise nudged her out of her thoughts. She glanced back at him. "It'll rain again tonight," Grissom said, closing up the book.

"I forgot how much it rains on this coast," Sara murmured. She coughed a second later, which made her still-sore belly suddenly ache. "I want to go home."

"Soon, Sara," he promised. "Dr. House is going to find out what's wrong with you and you're going to get better." Grissom's mouth twisted into something halfway between a grimace and a sneer. "No one can be that much of an ass and not be a genius to make up for it."

Sara smiled. "You're a genius and you're not an ass."

"I can be," Grissom reminded her. "Most everyone has the capacity." He reached for her hand. "Except maybe for you, my dear."

"I can be a bitch. You know...when I..." Her chest suddenly felt heavy, but she ignored the strange feeling. "When I need to be."

"A bitch wouldn't let me be here, holding her hand after...everything."

At the same time Grissom lightly squeezed her fingers, pain blossomed just below Sara's right breast. Gasping, she shot up and clutched at her heart.

"Sara?" Grissom's eyes were wide and scared. "What's happening?"

The monitors recording her vital signs began beeping incessantly. "Can't…" Frantic for air, Sara struggled with each word. "…breathe!" Everything hurt and the more she struggled, the less oxygen her brain received. She felt herself growing heavy, slouching over….everything turning white. Her name was being shouted over and over again, but she was floating and couldn't feel anything anymore.

The cold stab of a very thick needle into her chest brought her crashing back down into the pain. Her whole body jerked as air flooded into her lungs. The white haze faded away with each gasping breath she managed to take. After glancing down and seeing the needle still sticking out of her body, Sara looked back up at the ceiling as her chest rose and fell.

An unshaven face suddenly appeared above her. "Don't do that to Gil again," House warned her. "I don't want to give him mouth-to-mouth when his heart gives out."

* * *

To Be Continued


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Thank you, Lisa, for all of your help. And to everyone, all the reviews have been amazing. I thank you so much!

* * *

A House is Not a Home

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

"You're Dr. Grissom, aren't you?"

With bleary eyes, Grissom looked up from the half-full coffee cup he'd been staring into for what seemed like hours. The man standing in front of him was clearly a doctor, but not one he recognized. "I'm afraid you have the advantage."

"James Wilson." The younger man held out his hand. "We spoke on the phone awhile back."

"Of course." Grissom set aside his coffee and stood up to shake the doctor's hand. "Al Robbins speaks very highly of you."

"As he does of you." Wilson indicated the empty seat across the cafeteria table "May I join you?" Grissom nodded, and they both sat. "I'm sorry we're meeting under such circumstances. How is Sara doing?"

"I wish I knew," Grissom said with a frown. "Her doctor isn't exactly...personable."

Wilson nodded knowingly. "Truer words have never been spoken."

Grissom shook his head. "I can handle his antipathy. As long as he takes care of Sara."

"He will," Wilson assured him. "He won't rest until he's figured out what's wrong with her. That's what he does."

"So, she's a puzzle to be solved. Not a person to be healed?"

"I'd imagine it's a lot like a body on Al's exam table. If he thinks too much about the person, he might not be able to see what led to their death."

Grissom thought for a moment. "I suppose I always thought that your kind of doctors were more interested in people than puzzles. It's why I never considered medical school."

Wilson smiled. "For some of us, it's all about healing. For others, it's about cheating death, fixing nature, being right. You know...winning."

"And Dr. House would fall into the latter group?"

"That depends on what day you catch him on," Wilson replied.

Grissom reached for his cup and took a sip of cold coffee. "I wish I could say I didn't understand that. But a lot of what I do is about winning, too. Being smarter than the murderers. Outwitting the defense attorneys." He lifted his shoulders. "There's probably not much difference in the thrill of diagnosing an illness than there is in finding a single fingerprint that places a killer at the scene of a crime."

"Probably not," Wilson agreed. A few moments passed. "You know...House might have only taken Sara's case because it would be a challenge, but he does care about what happens to her. She is in good hands."

"She reminds him of someone, doesn't she?"

Wilson cleared his throat. "I can only say...you're not wrong." He hesitated. "Not everyone lets themselves have a happy ending."

Grissom nodded. "I remember being as unhappy as I believe Dr. House is." He took another sip of coffee. "I hope he figures it out before it's too late."

Just then, Wilson's pager went off. He checked it and sighed. "I'm sorry. I have to go." Standing up, Wilson held out his hand. "It was good to meet you, Dr. Grissom. If I don't see you before you leave, give my regards to Al."

"I will," Grissom said, shaking the younger man's hand. "And thank you, Dr. Wilson. For getting Sara here."

Wilson laughed as he turned to go. "I believe this might be the first time anyone's thanked me for exposing them to House."

"Well, I can't say that I don't wish he wasn't more...amiable. But Al trusts you and you trust him."

"Who do you trust, Dr. Grissom?"

"Sara," Grissom said after a second. "I trust that she can survive anything. Even Dr. House."

* * *

"Pneumothorax." At the same time he wrote it on the board, House said it out loud for good measure. "Her brain has abscesses and her lungs are collapsing left and right." He made jazz hands. "It's crazy!"

"It's both neurological and pulmonary," Foreman mused. "But whatever it is, it's not affecting any of her other systems."

House was surprisingly solemn as he added an ominous, "Yet."

Cameron lifted her head from her hands. "Are we absolutely sure that it's not something she could have been exposed to on the job?"

"It's not." Wilson entered the room with a few printed sheets of paper. "I sent an email to my father's friend, Dr. Robbins. He's a medical examiner, but he was able to send me a complete list of every common chemical used in the forensic science lab. There's some toxic stuff, but Sara is a field investigator. She doesn't even come into contact with half the things on the list."

"We don't know that for sure," Foreman said. "Maybe she spilled something or touched something that hadn't been washed properly. Accidents happen."

With the handle of his cane pressed against his mouth, House frowned. "It's not chemical. She's had a fever on and off this whole time. Something inside her is infected with something." Foreman opened his mouth, but House cut him off. "I'm the boss; I get to be vague."

"But how did she get an infection?" Cameron sighed. "She told me that ever since her ordeal, Dr. Grissom has been extremely overprotective. Practically following her around with a pillow, she claimed."

House lifted his head. "Ever since…but what about before?"

"Her medical records are practically spotless," Foreman said. "I bet she's got months of leave built up, because the woman doesn't seem to get sick. Until now."

"Until…she was kidnapped and dumped in the desert to die," House mused. "The desert. Full of…dirt."

"I think you mean sand," Cameron corrected him.

"Soil is soil. And all soil carries…" His eyes lit up. "Nocardia bacteria."

"Nocardia bacteria!" Chase burst into the room a second too late. Unaware that his grand reveal had already been upstaged, he went on. "The blood cultures were positive for it! She's got nocardiosis."

House snapped his fingers in mock disappointment. "Always two steps ahead of me, aren't you, champ?"

Cameron shook her head. "Even if she had accidentally inhaled sand during her ordeal, it's almost impossible for a healthy person to contract nocardiosis."

"She didn't inhale it," House said. "Did you read her file at all?"

"Did you?" Cameron snapped.

He shrugged. "I glanced at it. What caught my eye…what should have caught all of our eyes…were the notes about facial abrasions, cuts and scrapes all over her body." He paused. "Direct transmission. Soil to wound; bacteria to bloodstream." He limped for the door. "Chase, she needs much stronger antibiotics than the crap you've been giving her. Start her on a cocktail of sulfonamide, ceftriaxone, and amikacin. Foreman, book an OR to get that abscess drained before she seizes again."

Cameron chased him down the hall, all the way to the elevator. "This is all great, but you still haven't explained how a healthy immune system succombed to nocardia, something a lot of people come into contact with on a daily basis without ever getting sick. The only case I've ever seen was in a seventy-five year old grandmother who loved to garden."

"She didn't have a healthy immune system," House reminded her, hitting the down button with his cane. "Her immune system was busy dealing with recovering from a fractured arm, heat exhaustion and the D&C her loving boyfriend forced on her."

"The baby died from the trauma and it was the doctor's call to do the D&C. Dr. Grissom didn't have anything to do with that. He chose not to tell her in order to spare her pain," Cameron said, folding her arms over her white coat. "If she can forgive that, who are you to judge him?"

The elevator doors opened, but neither of them stepped inside. They were too busy staring at each other, each of them waiting for the other to speak.

When House finally did, it was with more than a little resignation. "Someday, someone is going to let you down so badly that you'll stop believing everyone has a good side."

"Are you afraid it'll be you?" Cameron shook her head slowly. "After everything I've already seen you do, is that even possible anymore?"

When the doors started to close, House stuck out his cane to force them open again. "Don't be so eager to find out." He limped into the cab. "Are you coming?"

Cameron stood still. Just as the doors closed, she thought she saw House reaching out to stop them, but by then it was too late.

"Insane rapist and a lot of beer," she sighed, walking away. "She got off easy."

* * *

"It's just bacteria? All of this…" Sara blinked several times. "Just an infection?"

"Not just an infection," House corrected her. "A very rare and very mean infection that tricked us all by disseminating." He glanced at Grissom. "For the doctors in the room who didn't bother with medical school, that means it attacked more than one of your systems, in your case, both pulmonary and neurological. More dangerous and harder to diagnosis."

Sara frowned. "Bacteria would show up in a blood culture, right? Why didn't my doctors in Vegas find it?"

"They were hung over?" House guessed. "Still thinking about the stripper from the night before? Who knows?"

"You really hate Vegas." Her frown morphed into a smile. "You must have lost big there once."

House pointedly ignored her, a clear indication that she'd hit upon a truth. "Nocardiae take awhile to show up in a culture; most tests aren't sustained long enough for them to grow."

At the window, where he'd slowly migrated to as House explained Sara's condition and how she'd come by it, Grissom finally spoke. "Could this have been prevented?"

"Sure." House started towards him as he continued. "If she hadn't been kidnapped, hadn't gotten scraped up, hadn't rolled around in mud trying to free herself from under a car, hadn't lost her baby, hadn't had doctors who got their medical degrees from Sin City University taking care of her…she'd be a-okay." He lowered his voice so only Grissom could hear him. "As much as I'd love to blame this one on you, too, I can't. So you shouldn't either."

House turned back to Sara. "It's going to take several weeks of very heavy duty antibiotics, not to mention literally draining your brain, but you're going to be fine. Maybe not up to chasing down criminals for awhile, but certainly well enough to dust for fingerprints or whatever the hell it is you do."

Sara's eyes glistened. "Dr. House, I don't know how to…"

He cut her off. "Don't do anything stupid like getting kidnapped again and we'll call it even." He headed for the door. "I've missed enough of my soaps because of you."

Once he was gone, Sara looked up at Grissom. "Greg's picture."

Grissom smiled patiently and pulled his phone from his pocket. "I'll be right back."

House was already halfway to the elevators when Grissom called out his name. The doctor turned around again, clearly annoyed. "I'm not comfortable with the attachment you've formed to me."

With the phone, Grissom snapped a quick picture of House. "Greg Sanders thanks you." He paused. "And so do I."

After a moment of watching each other, House shook his head. "It's all fun and games until you fall for them, isn't it? After that, any control you had…gone. And you don't get a say in your own happiness anymore."

Grissom looked right back at him without blinking. "Man can only endure a certain degree of unhappiness; what is beyond that either annihilates him or leaves him apathetic."

"Particularly deep fortune cookie?" House guessed.

"Goethe."

The doctor shrugged as he started for the elevators again. "It's all the same crap."

He waited until House was out of sight before heading back in the direction he'd come. On the way, Grissom dialed a number by heart. After two rings, Catherine answered. "Gil? What's going on?"

"Where are you?" he asked, coming into Sara's room.

"Your office…handing out assignments. Why?"

"Everyone's there?"

"Pretty much." Catherine paused. "Is something wrong with Sara?"

"Put your phone on speaker," Grissom instructed, taking a seat on the edge of Sara's bed. She gave him a puzzled look to which he merely patted her foot, silently assuring her that all was well. "Okay?" he asked Catherine a second later, having set the same function on his phone.

"We hear you loud and clear, boss," Greg said, his voice distant, like he was the furthest from the phone.

Nick was closer and sounded louder. "Is Sara all right?"

At the sounds of their voices, Sara blinked back tears. "I'm fine, Nick," she answered for herself. "Or at least I will be after a lot of antibiotics."

Grissom cleared his throat. "We're coming home."

"You're really all right, girl?" Warrick asked.

Sara nodded. "Yeah. Much better." She smiled. "Dr. House lived up to his reputation. And, yes, Greg...I have your picture."

There was laughter in Catherine's voice. "So, you'll be throwing a party as soon as Sara's recovered, right? At your house? You know...the one you two apparently share?"

"We'll get right on that." Grissom shook his head, halfway amused. "See you in a few days." After closing up the phone, he considered Sara for a moment. "It feels really good not to lie to them anymore. Maybe we should have told them a long time ago."

"We weren't ready to tell them a long time ago," she reminded him. "But if I've learned nothing else from this whole experience...the fact that we've gotten to this point at all...makes us pretty lucky."

Grissom reached for her hand. "Bacteria in her bloodstream, abscess in her brain, one reinflated lung, still wearing a sling...and she thinks she's lucky," he said almost to himself. "I find new reasons to love you every day, Sara."

* * *

To Be Continued


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Well, we've come to the end. I am so grateful to so many people for their incredible support of this story, most especially Cinco, who rocks the House medical smarts, and Lisa, who is Goddess-sent. Thank you everyone!

* * *

A House is Not a Home

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_Six weeks later_

"Oh my god. Would you look at this place?" Standing on the upper level of the loft, Sara looked down at the disaster area she used to call her kitchen. "I think they ate everything that was in our fridge."

On the lower level, in the middle of the aftermath, Grissom picked up an empty chip bag. "And the cabinets." He glanced up at Sara with an uncharacteristically large smile that was due in no small part to the half-dozen cocktails he'd enjoyed during their belated housewarming party. "How about we don't clean up until morning?"

"How about we just move to a new place so we don't have to clean up at all?" Sara started down the stairs. "You know I can't stand going to bed with a messy house."

"I know nothing," Grissom said, still fueled by his buzz. "Except how incredible your tush looks in that skirt."

"My tush?" she repeated, closing the distance between them. "Have you actually ever known a woman who's responded positively to that word?"

He thought for a second. "No. But I'm always hoping."

Chuckling, Sara looped her arms around his neck and gave him a solid kiss. "I taste…Scotch," she guessed a moment later. "Jim brought the good stuff?"

"The best," Grissom murmured, nuzzling the nape of her neck. "God, you smell good, Sara."

"I feel good." Her eyes closed at the delicious sensation of his lips on her skin. "For the first time in a long time. No more coughing, cast's gone…" Her hands slowly slipped down his back. "No more pain."

Grissom drew back slightly. "What…do you mean…?" He shot a quick, hopeful glance at the hallway which led to the bedroom. "Tonight?"

Sara's lips curled into a sexy smirk. "Unless you'd rather clean up."

"Don't be ridiculous, Sara. It's just…." Shaking his head to clear it, Grissom reached back and grasped her hands. "I'll need to run to the store."

"No."

He frowned. "Honey, you've been off your pills while you've been on the antibiotics."

"I know."

He looked back and forth between her brown eyes and found nothing there but earnest resolve. "You're sure about this? Dr. House…" He said the man's name like it tasted bad, and had no place in a conversation about their possible conception of a child. "He said there could be...issues with…"

Sara kissed him. "He's a great doctor, but he doesn't know everything. I want this. I think you want it, too."

He nodded, slowly, almost childishly, still under the influence of Brass's Scotch. "I wanted our baby, Sara," he whispered.

"Me, too," she whispered back, kissing him again, softer this time. "If we can't do it the old fashioned way, we'll try something else." She nipped at his lower lip with hers. "But let's cross that bridge when we come to it…and not until we've really, and I mean _really_ tried. Okay?"

All Grissom could do was keep nodding as he let her take his hand and lead him into their bedroom.

* * *

"You've got mail."

House glanced at his office door and frowned when he saw who was standing there with a package in her hand. "I have minions for that," he told Cameron. "At last count, you aren't one of them anymore."

She entered the room with waiting for an invitation. "I was never your minion. You hired me…"

"Because you're hot," he reminded her.

"Before you knew if I'd jump through any hoops to get the job," she finished with a hard look and a toss of her newly blonde hair. "Making me vastly different than your fresh group of flunkies."

House held out his hand. "Package."

"I went ahead and opened it. Old habits die hard, apparently." Cameron tossed it his way; the small box landed with a smack against his chest before he got his hands around it. "From Las Vegas, with thanks."

The box contained a single blank compact disc and a handwritten note.

_Dr. House,_

_It pays to have found evidence that cleared the chief of programming for KVBC of a ten-year drug trafficking charge. Makes it so much easier to ask him for favors, such as getting his hands on a copy of the episode of_ Passions _that aired on May 18th, 2007. _

_Enjoy. We all deserve a little happiness wherever we can find it._

_Sara Sidle_

Putting the letter down, House tried to snort in derision, but it came out more amused and touched than anything Cameron had heard from him before. "How the hell did she know?"

"You might have mentioned it to her a few times." Cameron shrugged. "And maybe I filled in the blanks when she called last week." She started backing up. "I'll leave you and Timmy alone."

"Wait." He stopped her at the door, looking up from his gift with uncertain eyes. "You could stay. Watch it with me. If you want," he quickly added. "Unless you're meeting Chase in the supply closet for a quickie."

Cameron folded her arms over her pink scrubs. "Don't you have a patient?"

This time, his snort was pure mockery. "Flunkies, remember? They'll probably page me before they manage to kill him."

As she pulled up a chair next to his and took a tentative seat, House slid the CD into his computer. While they waited for it to load, he dug into his desk and produced a bag of caramel popcorn. He opened it and offered it to her first. She took a big handful with a smile.

"That's Vincent," House pointed out the first character to appear on the screen. "He's pregnant with his father's baby." He threw a piece of popcorn into the air and caught it in his mouth. "It's a wonderfully incestuous medical miracle."

Cameron rolled her eyes and resigned herself to an hour of torture.

It would be so worth it.

* * *

Fin


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